


Bloody Secrets

by Nicxan



Category: Ghost (Sweden Band)
Genre: Blood and Gore, Blood and Injury, Decapitation, Gen, Haunting, Heavy Angst, Horror, Hurt No Comfort, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Spirits, Survivor Guilt, Terzo No
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-02
Updated: 2020-09-02
Packaged: 2021-03-06 22:55:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26246758
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nicxan/pseuds/Nicxan
Summary: Copia is trying to enjoy a meal, but something in the air just feels wrong.
Comments: 9
Kudos: 25





	Bloody Secrets

**Author's Note:**

> IT'S SEPTEMBER SO IT'S SPOOKY TIME HERE'S SOME SPOOKY

Being Papa was good. He had gotten good meals as a Cardinal, but actively working around the face paint while eating felt like a strange badge of honor. That, and everyone seemed to put extra effort into everything -- the presentation, the cooking, the flavors ... 

Case in point, the lasagna Copia was eating was absolutely divine. Perfect in every way. Perfection, however, seemed to be less of a rare treat and more of an expectation now; it happened almost every day. The chosen wine was always impeccable. Today was no exception. It was a red wine, the finest in Italy -- or so they claimed. He'd be testing that soon enough. 

This should all be relaxing. Yet, it wasn't. Today felt ... odd. Different. Why, Copia had no idea. He was in his chambers as usual, soaking in the sun that was streaming through the massive windows. The warm colors looked as inviting as ever, as did the magic fire in the fireplace. It flickered and danced in its spot, the smoke vanishing just as quickly as it appeared.    
  
All was well, and yet ... it was so, so quiet.    
  
Copia was always surrounded by people -- Siblings in the night, ghouls in the day, his rats throughout the hours ... yet, now they were all gone. He didn’t even hear a whisper outside, never mind the squeak of a rat. Why? What had happened? Were they just busy?

Copia's nose wrinkled, then he went back to eating. He was most likely just overthinking things. Maybe he should go to bed early tonight, take the hit on paperwork, and actually get some rest. He’d feel normal tomorrow, surely. Being Papa was rather exhausting, so ... it wasn’t surprising to have an off day. Right?   
  
The air feeling suffocating just was a side effect of it. The feeling of being watched was normal, too. It had to be.  _ It had to be.  _ He didn’t want to imagine why there would be eyes on him despite no one being here. It was just a product of exhaustion. Even so, Copia found himself shivering.    
  
Maybe it was due to his nerves. Maybe it was because the room took a sudden dip in temperature. Why did it feel so cold in the middle of summer?   
  
No, no. It was just the air conditioning doing too good of a job. Even though it barely worked in his chambers, Copia clung to that explanation. Nothing added up, but he didn’t care. All he had to do was get through today -- and wine would surely help with that. 

Copia chuckled to himself, desperately trying to fill the silence with something or another. Laughing did nothing to ease his nerves, so he reached for his wine glass. When his fingers brushed against air, he looked up, eyes wide with shock.    
  
His glass was floating over the table. That should be impossible, yet here he was, looking at it. Slowly, slowly, it tipped over by itself, spilling the wine onto his brand new carpet. Copia watched in muted shock as the liquid poured out of the glass.    
  
_ ‘This shouldn’t be happening. It shouldn’t be -- what --’  _   
  
Copia felt frozen in his seat. He couldn’t move -- he could barely even breathe. All he could do was watch as the wine glass continued to move away from the table, hovering over the chair. The fire flickered still, but it seemed much less lively than before. The light it gave off was dimmer -- less.    
  
It didn’t take long for it to flicker out entirely.   
  
When Copia squinted, he could see the outline of a masculine form. It seemed ethereal, like it wasn’t fully there. Wisps of blue shimmered in the sun, gradually becoming more and more solid. Eventually, Copia was staring at a very, very familiar face.    
  
Terzo smiled coldly and just a bit too wide. His sharp canines poked through, looking as menacing as could be. His face paint looked impeccable, but everything looked ... off. Wrong. His eyes were different, especially the Emeritus eye. They were narrower, smouldering -- threatening.    
  
The red gash around his neck was ... bleeding. Lucifer below, it was bleeding. And it was slowly, slowly trailing down Terzo’s torso, down into his suit. Copia could hear the dripping.   
  
His pointed ears flattened as Copia continued to observe him.    
  
“Always one for staring, weren’t you? Don’t you know it’s rude,  _ Cardinal _ ?” Terzo spat out the word ‘Cardinal’ like it was a curse. He leaned back in Copia’s chair, crossing one leg over the other. “I hate how you’ve butchered the Papal Chambers. Looks horrible,  _ si? _ Very unbecoming.”   
  
Copia forced himself to speak. “Get out.”    
  
It was the wrong thing to say, and Copia knew it immediately. Not because it would offend the spirit in front of him, but because it was a useless, empty statement. Terzo outright threw his head back and laughed. Copia noticed how the skin split at his neck and the way the blood gushed out of it.    
  
He felt sick to his stomach.    
  
“Oooh, I’m shaking in my  _ boots! _ Look at you, giving orders like you own the entire abbey.” Terzo’s stare grew harsh once again as he glared at Copia. “You have no right.”   
  
“I am Papa!” Copia shouted back. “I have  _ every  _ right!”    
  
His words sounded hollow, even to him. Terzo could tell, too. All he did was shake his head in a way that made it flop about, nearly falling off. “Tsk. You’re acting like a child on a power trip. Couldn’t welcome a former Papa! You realize how rude that is, yes? How disrespectful it is?”   


This wasn’t happening. This  _ couldn’t _ be happening. Copia shuddered at the icy cold that permeated through his office. He looked away from Terzo, down at his ice-cold meal, desperately trying to will the spirit away.    
  
When he looked up, however, Terzo was still there.    
  
“You didn’t even offer a drink!” Terzo rolled his eyes. “I must do everything myself.”    
  
Copia watched in horror as Terzo grasped his own head and pulled it off in a sickeningly slow fashion. The skin around the neck tore, splitting in the most grotesque manner possible. Terzo finished pulling off his head, then tipped his neck forward. Blood fell out of his neck and into the wine glass, then spilled over onto the chair and the rug.    
  
It was staining.  _ Why was it staining?  _   
  
“Are you this rude to all of your superiors, Cardinal?” Terzo asked as he popped his head back on. He then took a sip of his own blood from the wine glass. “You haven’t asked why I’m here, what I need ...”   
  
“Because -- because you’re not welcome here.” Copia cursed the way his voice trembled. When he wore the mitre and the vestments, he should sound powerful. Yet, he sounded pathetic in front of the spirit. “If you don’t leave, I’ll --”   
  
“You’ll what? Banish me?” Terzo scoffed. “I’ll be back.”    
  
Silence.    
  
“You know, Cardinal,” Terzo began darkly, “You robbed my brothers and I of the peace that we sought for. You know that,  _ si? _ I know you do. Sister Imperator may have carried it out, but you were fully aware of what the plan was.”   
  
“But I didn’t --”   
  
“Don’t lie to me!” The former Papa’s voice turned into a demonic roar, shaking the walls and making books fall off of their shelves. Copia instinctively threw his arms over his face to protect himself, cringing in fear as the room itself trembled.    
  
“We have been watching you from hell, Copia! We have heard your most private conversations!  _ You knew what was going to happen! _ ” Terzo stood, clenching his fists so hard that his claws pierced his gloves. The fabric turned a bright red. The wine glass broke in his grip, sending glass shards falling -- and the last of the blood splattered onto the rug. “You killed us! You killed us!”    
  
“I didn’t do it!” Copia couldn’t help it: he was afraid, and in the moment, he was fearful that Terzo would come and snap his neck. No, that would be too easy, he wouldn’t end with just that -- no, no, he wouldn’t -- “I’m sorry! I’m sorry!”   
  
“Your apologies mean nothing!” Terzo snarled. “We are dead,  _ bastardo! _ You know what we were talking about? We were talking about what we could do now that we all were free! Primo could continue growing his plants! I was going to take over those gardens! Now who looks over them? People who do not know what they’re doing! The flowers -- they  _ wilt! _ ”   
  
He took a step closer to Copia.    
  
“Did you know that Secondo was finally going to stop overworking himself? Finally, he was going to get back to his hobbies and enjoy his life. You stopped him from doing that.”   
  
Another step.    
  
“And I! I could finally be myself! Do you know what a relief that was after the humiliation that I suffered? I didn’t have to act a certain way anymore. I could finally just -- just --” Terzo screamed in rage, slamming his fist on the desk. The wood cracked beneath the force of his anger. “-- be Valentino! And you --  _ you _ \--”    
  
When Copia met Terzo’s gaze, he nearly withered on the spot. He had never seen such anger behind anyone’s eyes before. If looks could kill, Terzo’s would have murdered him on the spot. It was probably what he wanted, anyway.    
  
“Make no mistake, Cardinal. You did not murder us, but you could have stopped it.” Terzo grabbed Copia’s hands, and Copia yelped with how ice cold Terzo’s touch was. He tried to pull away, but found himself unable to. He still tried, though -- he jerked, squirmed around, even stood up to try and get away.    
  
None of it did any good.    
  
“There is blood on your hands. Can you live with that?”   
  
Copia looked down to see his hands absolutely soaked with dark red blood. He wasn’t sure where the screaming was coming from -- was it him? -- but he tried to pull away again. Terzo promptly let go, sending Copia tumbling into the bookshelf behind him.    
  
He was still screaming even as the heavy tomes fell on top of him. A corner of a particularly thick book hit him on the back of the head, instantly knocking him out. 

* * *

_ “Papa. Papa, get up this instant --”  _   
  
Copia groaned. He was dimly aware of his surroundings -- the softness of the carpet, the setting sun, the ... vigorous shaking. Someone was shaking him.    
  
“No! Stop!” Copia jolted away from his assailant, screaming in terror. His head ached so badly, but it was forgotten in the surge of adrenaline that shot through his body. He opened his eyes, fearful and wide --    
  
Only to see Sister Imperator standing over him looking cross. The anger didn’t reach her eyes, though. She only looked horrified. That was something he hadn’t seen before, and it only scared him more.    
  
“You’re bleeding,” she said in an unwavering voice. “We need to get you to the medical wing. Immediately.”    
  
Copia blinked dumbly, then looked down at his hands. He shrieked when he saw the blood still on them. Some bright red was mixed with the darker red, indicating fresh blood. Was that his? Was that Terzo’s? He didn’t know, he didn’t  _ know _ \--    
  
“Is he still here?” Copia asked in a small voice. “Is Terzo -- Terzo --”   
  
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Sister Imperator helped Copia up, balancing him against her when it became clear that he couldn’t stand up straight.    
  
Copia’s eyes flickered around. The books were still fallen. The fireplace was still out. There were still wood splinters spread around from his desk, some in the lasagna. The wine glass -- oh god, the wine glass had shattered, after all.    
  
The screaming resumed; he was unable to even form a coherent sentence as Sister led him away. Her constant attempts to shush him were futile.   
  
“I didn’t do it! I didn’t do it!” he repeated over and over. “I swear I didn’t! I didn’t!”   
  
He felt eyes on him as the doors to the papal chambers slammed behind them. 


End file.
